An Altruistic Distraction
by peanutmeg
Summary: Morgan and Reid discuss pranks and the reasoning behind them. A missing scene from "Painless."


**An Altruistic Distraction**

_by peanutmeg_

**Disclaimer: **Nope, I still don't own Criminal Minds. And as a recent graduate still looking for a job, I don't have any money either. So please, don't sue me.

**Author's Note**: This story is dedicated to nebula2 (you should really read her CM fic) since she's the one who pushed me into writing, and then posting, this story. Also, thanks to Lirulin, for her general encouragement to write. :-)

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><p>Reid hadn't thought Morgan would let it get this far. Yes, he had "hussled" him in the basketball pool earlier in the week, but that was more from habit than out of any intent of one-upmanship. Yet, Morgan had given his cell number to the media, and its incessant ringing had interrupted his profiling with Emily and Hotch. And now, now Dr. Spencer Reid had just lost his control in front his friends, including Hotch, <em>his boss<em>. He had cursed and shouted into his phone. He'd had to take a moment to remember the relevant facts about pain asymbolia. Feeling the frustration and embarrassment build up again, Reid couldn't stop the words from quietly escaping, "I'll crush you."

"What?"

"What?" Reid knew it was childish, countering Morgan's question with one of his own, but all he could think of at the moment was getting out. Getting away from the place of his embarrassment. Without waiting for a further reply from Morgan, Reid quickly turned and hurried out of the room.

Briskly walking along the hall of the station, Reid headed for the front doors, intent on getting out of the building. He'd briefly considered going to the men's room to gather his thoughts, but had discarded that idea when he remembered that he couldn't be certain that he'd have privacy. Finally seeing the entrance, Reid pushed open the door, trying to inconspicuously gulp in the fresh air. Luckily, despite the media having access to his phone number, the reporters thought Dr. Spencer Reid to be an athletic African American, not a thin white man with mismatched socks, so they took no notice of him as he tried to catch his breath. The fact that Hotch and Prentiss had just hurried out the building and into their SUV helped too.

Reid had just started to descend the steps when a hand caught his arm, "Whoa, Kid. Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

Involuntarily, Reid flinched at the contact while simultaneously turning to catch Morgan's gaze.

"I just needed some air."

"Reid."

"What? You asked where I was going. I need some air to clear my head, and the UnSub isn't going to wait. So yeah, maybe I was in a _hurry_."

"Reid, c'mon. Talk to me, Kid."

"_Talk to you?_ Really Morgan? You want me to talk to you? Fine. What were you thinking giving my cell number to media? I can't do my job properly! I just cursed and yelled in front of _Hotch_. I'm probably going to get a write up in my file for not conducting myself in a professional manner while on a case, all because I beat you at a _basketball_ _pool_? Because for once Spencer Reid outwitted Derek Morgan in predicting sports? Why Morgan? I thought –" Reid trailed off, not wanting to admit more than he already had. He shrugged out of Morgan's slackened grip and took a step down, away from the other profiler, "Look, I'm just going for a walk. I'll get coffee for everyone while I'm out."

Reid had made it down the steps and half a block away from the station before he heard Morgan behind him, the calls getting louder as Morgan lessoned the distance between them.

"Reid. Reid! Would you just wait up? Geez, Kid c'mon! _Reid_!"

Knowing that he wouldn't be able to outrun Morgan, and that attempting to do so would just create more of a spectacle, Reid slowed to a stop, pressing 'ignore' when he phone began to ring. Within moments, Morgan was beside him and Reid absently noted that Morgan wasn't even out of the breath.

With a quiet sigh, Reid turned to fully face his teammate, "What Morgan?"

"You ran off before I could answer your question."

"My question." Reid kept his voice flat, simply repeating Morgan's words, striving to keep his emotions to himself.

"Yeah, look," Morgan paused and glanced around at the pedestrians milling about on the sidewalk, "Let's go somewhere a bit more quiet." That was all the warning Reid received before Morgan was gently gripping his arm and leading him to a quiet bench to the left of a World War II memorial.

"Okay, Morgan. It's quieter." Reid tried to discreetly shift his position, hoping to find a more comfortable position on the metal bench. Beside him, Morgan was leaning forward, gazing intensely at a lamp post.

"I wanted to distract you."

"_What_?" Reid felt his hands clench, and closed his eyes, taking a moment to breathe before opening them and continuing, "Morgan, why – why would you want me distracted so I _can't do my job_?"

The older profiler turned to fully face Reid and made sure he held his gaze, "No, no, Pretty Boy. I never wanted you to not do your job. And I'm sorry you got embarrassed in front of Hotch. I just – I just wanted you distracted."

Reid's brows wrinkled in confusion, "I don't – Morgan, I don't understand."

"This case, Reid. Our UnSub…What did you call him earlier, '_An outcast even the outcasts rejected._'"

"I know what I said, Morgan. But I still don't understand…"

"Do you remember the Owen Savage case?"

"Eidetic memory, Morgan," Reid replied, lightly tapping his temple and letting out a small smile, "but these cases aren't related in any way."

"Do you know what I remember about that case, Reid? I remember you walking, _unarmed_ up to the UnSub. The UnSub with a dammed gun as big as you. And then, what did you do? You _blocked our shot_. He could have pumped you full of bullets and we wouldn't have been able to do anything until it was _too late_."

Reid stayed silent, momentarily stunned. "Morgan, that case was years ago. And this UnSub is vastly different from Owen Savage. The pain asymbolia alone means that –"

"It's high school, Reid! It's an UnSub with a high school shooter mentality. He has a list and is out for revenge on those who abused him! I don't give a shit that this UnSub can't feel pain, Reid, I _don't care_. We'll find him. But when we do I don't want you _blocking our shot_ or _worse_ because you can understand where he's coming from! We were lucky Reid, Prentiss came back, but this UnSub uses bullets and bombs, Reid, and there's no coming back from that."

Morgan was still facing Reid, but his gaze had dropped to his clenched hands once he finished speaking. Hesitantly, Reid reached out and placed his left hand over top of Morgan's, glad when the profiler let out a sigh.

"Morgan, I'm sorry I worried you. But like you just said, this UnSub uses bullets and bombs – he's calculating. Why would you want me distracted during such a serious case?"

"I figured – I figured that if you were distracted, you wouldn't have time to relate to the UnSub; to empathize with him. What you went through in high school, no one should have to go through that. Ever. And I wish, every dammed day that I'd been there for you. But I wasn't. And now, now we have a case with an UnSub targeting the same type of people that gave you Hell in high school, some of them, anyway. When we started this case, all I could think was that it could be another case like Savage. And I didn't want to risk – I didn't want you understanding the UnSub's thoughts. I didn't want your memories helping you relate to the UnSub. I figured the easiest way to do that was to keep you distracted so you wouldn't have the time to. So yeah, Pretty Boy, I gave the media your number."

Reid stared at his and Morgan's hands as he processed his friend's words. Morgan had been trying to look out for him, in his own way.

"Morgan, I promise that I won't try to talk down this UnSub. I don't relate to him, not like I did to Owen. And I didn't mean to scare you, that time. I just thought that if –" Reid was interrupted by the ringing of his cell, and he used his right hand to dismiss the call, not even taking the time to glace at the ID before returning it to his pocket.

Reid couldn't stop the laughter that bubbled out of him as he thought about his frustration with his constantly ringing phone.

Morgan looked like he was debating between being worried or laughing himself, so Reid decided to explain, "Only you, Morgan, would ensure I was _distracted _by giving my cell phone number to reporters for the local news."

Morgan smiled, "Yeah, well, you're the genius, Kid. And at the time I didn't know what to expect. It seemed like the easiest way to ensure you were _distracted_ from the beginning of the case. Although earlier," Morgan let out a small laugh, "I've never heard you curse before, Reid. It was enlightening – our Pretty Boy is growing up."

"Yes. Congratulations, Morgan. You've sufficiently distracted me."

"I'm glad, Kid." Morgan stood and gave Reid a hand as he stood as well, "C'mon, let's go get that coffee. I'll even buy."

As the two profilers headed toward the local coffee shop, Reid spoke up after once again silencing his phone, "Hey Morgan?"

"Yeah, Kid."

"Don't think that just because your _distraction_ had altruistic, if misplaced, reasoning you're off the hook. You had me swear and yell in front of _Hotch_." Reid gave Morgan a smile, "I hope you know that this is war, now."

Morgan laughed, "Bring it on, Pretty Boy."

"Just remember that you said that later."


End file.
